This is part two of a series of articles based on reporting by Adil Shahzeb – DawnNews correspondent currently in Afghanistan in the aftermath of the Taliban takeover.

Our next destination is Kabul — the city that will, eventually, serve as the nerve centre of the governance system decided upon by Afghanistan's new rulers.

The journey from Jalalabad to the capital that normally takes around three hours is protracted because of some vehicles malfunctioning on the route. We see the Taliban's traffic sepoys helping manage those cars.

The ride otherwise is generally smooth and we don't get stopped at the only Taliban checkpost in the first half of the journey.

On the roadside, we spot a number of old, totalled cars and armoured vehicles, remnants of the four blood-soaked decades of incessant war seen by this country.

Accompanying us on this journey — from all four sides it seems — are mighty, jagged mountains. It is said that these peaks are the very reason no foreign power that has ever tried to invade Afghanistan has been successful.

After traversing some more of these formidable mountains, we are finally in Kabul.

This does not look like the no-go area we've been hearing about in Western media. Businesses are open, the traffic matches the chaos of any other South Asian city, and people (including, yes, women) are going about their business on the roads — albeit in smaller numbers than usual.

But all is clearly not well.

At one bazaar in the city, shopkeepers sit idly next to stalls selling brightly coloured women's clothes. Business has frozen in the past 10-12 days of the Taliban takeover, some shopkeepers tell us. Upon seeing our camera, some other traders come up to us and request that we convey their hardship.

Read: State of uncertainty

In the downtown commercial area of Shahr-e-Naw, around two dozen people stand waiting outside an ATM. They want to withdraw money to refill groceries at home, but there is no cash in the machines. The accompanying bank, like Afghanistan's central bank, is closed.

"I have run out of cash, and there has been no money in the ATMs for four days. I have to purchase wheat flour, sugar, rice and other things," says Rehmatullah, showing his ATM card that he hasn't been able to use. Bank officials have told him and others that the cash will arrive soon — but the wait continues.

We are on the road again, and when the driver tunes into local radio, an Afghan song plays with the striking beat of tabla. A large portrait of former Afghan king Ghazi Amanullah Khan hangs from a building in the distance.

At the Ministry of Information and Culture, we ask one of the country's present kings about global concerns regarding journalists' safety and press freedom in Afghanistan after the takeover.

The apprehensions are largely unfounded, says Mufti Inamullah Samangani, a senior official in the Taliban's information and culture commission. He claims that the Taliban will have no problem with criticism directed at them, and that the only red lines will be the fundamentals of Islam and "blatant anti-national agenda".

Elsewhere in central Kabul, the Taliban patrol the road near the bazaar of Pul-e-Bagh-e-Omomi in several military vehicles, their distinct white flag mounted on the front.

The law and order is there, and there is no reported bloodshed at the moment, but metres away from the bazaar, a large, mainly girls school is devoid of its usual strength of hundreds of students. There is no announced ban on the classes, but amid the uncertainty that continues to linger in this city's air, the girls and boys have chosen to stay home.

How quickly — and for how long — the classrooms of this school come to life again will be decided by the formation of the "inclusive" government the Taliban have promised. Until then, the resilient inhabitants of Kabul will wait, and hope for a better tomorrow.

Note: This piece was drafted prior to the Kabul airport attacks on late Thursday night.

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